Shared Cruelty
by Kat Lee formerly Pirate Turner
Summary: Cruelty doesn't lessen when shared. Mild Scema and Romy Het. For the A HREF "/myforums/Kat-Lee-formerly-Pirate-Turner/601834/" Legends of Cerebro/A forum.


Title: "Shared Cruelty"  
Author: Kat Lee  
Rating: PG-13/T  
Summary: Cruelty doesn't lessen when shared.  
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.

She walks into the kitchen one afternoon just in time to have Rogue fly pass her with Remy still calling behind her, "Chere, I didn't mean it like dat!" She'd heard their argument from the moment her limousine had pulled up outside Xavier's. She couldn't care less if the Southern belle never returned or if the Cajun took his life because of her angry words fueled by hatred. It didn't matter to her that that hatred was so akin to the venomous fury and hate with which every X-Man but Scott and Charles glowered at her.

The argument had absolutely nothing to do with why she was entering the kitchen as the other woman blasted her way through the school. She was hungry. She should have stopped for something to eat along the way, but she had a class to teach this afternoon and could ill afford to be late for it and give her team mates another reason to despise her.

Like Rogue's and Remy's fierce thoughts, the scent of the gumbo had also met her the moment she'd stepped out of her limousine. The Cajun cooking smelled almost as enticing as the man cooking it himself, but Remy was nothing to her. He was not even worthy of kissing her high heels. He was nothing more than, as so many of the others called him, a Swamp Rat. And yet she found herself wanting to turn to meet his gaze as she leans into the refrigerator in search of something to eat.

It's Gambit that breaks the silence that's fallen into the kitchen after Rogue's absence. "Ain't nothin' in dere fit havin', cherie. You might as well have some o' dis gumbo." He grabs a spoon and starts ladling the soup into a bowl before she can accept or deny his invitation. She turns to find a full bowl being thrust at her from a man whose red eyes look as sad as her own blue orbs so often do. "Somebody oughta eat it."

She quirks a slender eyebrow at him. "You cooked it, LeBeau. Surely you will partake of it yourself." She takes the bowl but pokes at the gumbo with the spoon in it. "I've never eaten gumbo," she lies.

His eyes actually twinkle then, and she finds the corners of her mouth wanting to turn up in response. "First time for everythin', cherie."

"You should tell that to your friends."

He turns away, his eyes sharpening. He shakes his head. "You don't belong here, Emma."

Anger flushes her immediately. "I'm not leaving."

"Wouldn't do me any good to tell ya to, I know." He looks back at her, and for a moment, she can see all the sorrow she feels every night when Scott's asleep and she's alone again, despite being held in his arms, in his red eyes. "But I gotta tell ya, chere." He shakes his head sadly. She's never liked long hair on men, but she has to admit, silently, that it looks good on him as his thick, brown ponytail slides along his muscular back. "Dey never gonna forget."

She touches his arm. Emotions neither of them will put a name to flickers in his haunted eyes. "I'm not going to ask them to." As she speaks the words, she again makes the same vow to herself. "I'm not here for them, Remy. I'm not seeking their forgiveness. I do not care what they think of me or if they ever realize that I'm not the villainess they persist in seeing me as."

"Den why are you here?" he asks softly, sliding closer to her.

Whatever he's wearing is both sweet and musky. It's the first cologne Emma's ever encountered since her days with the Hellfire Club that she doesn't recognize; she could never guess that he makes it with his own mix of spices and a dab of this and that stolen from the supermarket shelves. She levels her head and meets his eyes firmly. "I am here for myself, if you must know, LeBeau, and, and more importantly, for the next generation of mutants. These people say that they want the best for our kind, but they are not willing to make all the sacrifices that are needed."

"Dat's a strong statement, Frost."

Their eyes battle. Neither will look away. Emma sees in his eyes that he knows she is speaking the truth, a truth that he hates and refuses to admit. She thinks for just a moment that she should let him go on, keep his head in the proverbial sand, and continue to believe the lie of Xavier's dream. Yet she, too, has finally bought into Xavier's dream, has she not? What is she doing here if she doesn't believe that mutants and humans can one day live together in peace?

"A future of peace is the only one we have hope of making now," she tells him, her words surprising herself almost as much as they do him. "We've gone too far, suffered too much, for our people to take the superior positions over the homo sapien race that is rightfully ours. We may one day yet be able to attain peace, but in order to reach that day, there are going to be more sacrifices that will have to be made. Lives will have to be taken. Some humans must be crushed."

"You're a killer, LeBeau. So am I, and so is Wolverine. Few of the others are. They've accepted Logan, but they will never accept us. You helped to slaughter their friends. I am the reason far too many young mutants are dead. None of them can look beyond our pasts, not even your precious belle."

Remy's eyes flare. "You're wrong," he growls emotionally.

"I'm right," she counters boldly, no longer concerned with hurting his feelings. She has to live with these truths every day; it is past time he's made to face them, too. The cruelty she suffers every day should lessen if some one else has to share it. "You know I am." She smirks and finally takes a bite of the gumbo he graciously gave her. "Just as you know this gumbo is delicious."

She walks out of the kitchen, leaving him alone in his misery, taking his gumbo with her, and despite herself and her previous beliefs, feeling just as sorrowful and cruel inside as she did the first day she came to this school after losing her own students for the second time in her life. The gumbo has suddenly lost its taste and she her appetite. She wordlessly presses it into Bumpkin's eyes as she heads for her room. She's going to have to fix her makeup, but nothing, not kindness or sharing cruelty, will ever be able to fix the pain in her heart. Or, she thinks, hearing Remy's dismal thoughts and French curses in her mind, his.

**The End**


End file.
